The Damn Curse
by agtmacgyver
Summary: MarySue Badfic. JackOC, MulderOC, PiratesXFiles Crossover. Best Prom Evar! ZOMG Ponies! Hey look we spelled summary corectly!


**The Damn Curse**

**By AgtEeyore, Obfusc8er, and AgtMacGyver**

Rating: PG-13 for cursing, which, since you've already read the title, is now over. Badfic. Oh, also teh sex.

Classification: Badfic, romance, X-Files POTC crossover, Mulder/OC, Sparrow/OC, badfic, OMG ponies!!!!!!!11!!!, badfic

Spoilers: The X-Files 2: Mulder, Where's Yer Troosers?, My Little Pony, other people's fan fiction

Disclaimer: We own Groobert, a skein of yarn, seven giraffe figurines, a Los Clayhamton letterman jacket, and a small bucket of treats. Everything else probably belongs to someone else, most likely the bank.

Summary: Best Prom Evar!!! ZOMG Ponies!!111!!!!one!!!eleventysevenBBQ!!exclamation!!! Badfic

A/N: This is a badfic. By "badfic" we mean intentionally bad. By "intentionally bad" we mean that all grammar and spelling and continuity and canon mistakes were made on purpose. Therefore, if you flame any of us, we will post your flame on the internet, point out all of your inadequacies and make fun of your mom.

A/N: We'd like to thank Nestle Wonka and Captain Morgan for craft services. And we'd like to thank David Duchovny and Johnny Depp for being ZOMG! soooooooooooooo hawt!

A/N: This fic contains references from the following (Points if you spot 'em all! Looney.): Space Ghost Coast 2 Coast, Saturday Night Live, Madlibs, Old Navy, Forever 21, Steve Madden, Apache by The Sugarhill Gang, The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Robitussin, The Empire Strikes Back, The X-Files: Bad Blood, AgtMacGyver's punchy ramblings, The X-Files: War of the Coprophages, The Tick, Looney Tunes, If I Had A Hammer by Peter, Paul and Mary, Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail, Swamp Thing, Vera Wang's website, Malibu coconut rum, Deep Blue Sea, Best Western, Golgi bodies, The X-Files season 1 gag reel, Kenneth Cole, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Old Generation, Nathan's July 4th Hot Dog Eating Contest, Madonna, Captain Morgan commercials, fake ads from You Don't Know Jack, The Wizard of Oz, Barbra Streisand, Let's Get It Started by The Black-Eyed Peas, Hurt by Nine Inch Nails, Charles Schultz's Peanuts, Bananaphone by Raffi, Thriller by Michael Jackson, The Princess Bride, Back to the Future, The Princeton Review's GRE Preparation book, He-Man, Milkshake by Kelis, Animaniacs, Magic: The Gathering, Aqua Teen Hunger Force, Mystery Science Theater 3000, oh, and in case you missed it, all 3 Pirates movies and the X-Files in general.

* * *

"OMG, he is such a jerk!" Millarja shrieked into her cellular phone. "I'm totally over him!!"

"I know! I just wanted to buy them right then and there!" Millarja squealed into her other cellular phone.

"Hang on a second. I just heard something weird out in the barn," she whispered into both phones.

Millarja put down her phones and went out to the barn. A thunderous belch resounded throughout the structure. She opened the door, and wept. "OMG he's sooooooo hawt!!!111!!"

There in front of her stood the most beautiful pirate she had evar seen with ropey hairs and swarthy skin and shiny dangly-bits. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he drawled in his incredibly hott sexxy voice. "Where's the rum?"

"I don't know. Mom keeps the liquor cabinet locked, but my friends and I snuck some watermelon Pucker into the loft. You can have some of that if you want," Millarja replied shyly.

"Nevermind, luv. Tell me, where has meself gotten meself to, now?" Jack asked as he swaggered around the barn floor.

"You're in my mom's barn in Los Clayhamton. I hate her."

"Los Clayhamton, eh? Never 'eard of it. I'm quite familiar with barns, though. You often meet the most interesting wenches in barns."

Millarja giggled and pointed at Jack's crotchal area.

"Hey, what's that?"

"Aren't you a saucy one?" he asked, his voice growling in that deep, sexxy, piratey way it has, you know what I mean?

"Is that a jewelry box?"

"No, luv. That's a compass. A broken compass, at that. But I have something else what points your way…"

Millarja's secret-y dreams of finding a beautiful, lost, randy, and somewhat confused man in her barn were coming true! (!!) She almost crapped her pants.

She gazed awe-struckedly at his manly face and nearly lost herself in the black, limpid pools of his eyeballs.

"Hey, cool! Your mom lets you wear mascara?"

"Totally," he replied.

"My mom won't," she said, pouting. "I hate her."

Jack shrugged. "You've never met _my_ mother... _I've_ never met my mother... Oh, bugger."  
Jack's eyes go all unfocusy and he gazes into the distance for a couple minutes before he blinks and continues, "So, wanna see me spyglass? It expands quite a lot."

"Yes! Let's have a roll in the hay!" Millarja replied eagerly.

"Don't mind if I do, luv." Jack reached into the pile of hay and pulled out a dinner roll.

Millarja frowned. "You have far too many clothes on."

She reached for his scruffy leather tricorn hat.

"Oy!" he exclaimed, and slapped her hand away. "Don't touch me hat."

"Don't touch you?"

"No. Me hat."

"So, your hat."

"Me hat. Or me boots. But you can touch everything else."

Millarja grasped his hard, long, and slightly-bent-at-the-end scabbard.

"Touching me sword already? Cheeky."

She giggled again, noticing how the dark blue, tweed, thread-bare, button-holed, ginormous-cuffed coat hung well. She slowly slipped his coat down his arms, enjoying the manly knots of bulging muscles underneath the pigmented layers of his epidermis.

And then I fingered the shiny buckle of his shoulder-belt, which was attached to two other belts and a sash. Which also hung well.

"Why so many belts?" I asked.

"One isn't enough to keep me contained," he grinned insouciantly.

Taking my time, I examined and discarded the accoutrements attached to his belts. The pistol had a scary face on its butt. The grip was small but felt good in the hand. Some unsuspecting manky animal pelt was attached next to the pistol. It sort of looked like my neighbors' cat. I jingled the rum cellar keys hanging from the other belt, but I didn't know they were for the rum cellar. I pulled ineffectually at the dangling end of the striped sash. I noticed it was tied in a sheepshank and tenderly released it.

"Your knowledge of sailors knots has raised me curiosity bump, luv!"

"I noticed."

Jack continued to swagger in place, his hands on his hips, his mouth pouty, looking amused and confident. I was attracted to his compass because it totally matched the outfit I bought at Old Navy last Tuesday. I pulled firmly, and it popped off with a grunt from Jack.

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"I like a girl who knows what she wants. _That_ is a compass what shows you the one thing in this world you want the most. Open it and see."

I tittered knowingly and opened the case. The needle inside whirled around a couple of times, then settled on the aforementioned curiosity bump.

"Curious, that," he said as his curiosity bump grew larger. But he didn't really seem surprised, which was curious.

I shucked off his vest like the leaves on an ear of corn right before you butter it and put salt on it and nibble on its nubs. The linen shirt underneath was poofy and thin, and looked a lot like a couple of shirts I totally wanted to buy in Forever 21. I ripped at the flimsy fabric with impatience and gasped at the sight of two bullet scars, one tattoo, a wonderland of nearly hairless skin, and tight manly boob-muscles.

"You're lucky, dearie. It's not easy to find a pirate with two good nipples."

The tattoo was red and black, with a compass rose surrounding his belly button. A long, thick arrow pointed South. Next to the arrow were the words "There be monsters".

"Let's see where this goes," I said, tracing the arrow with my fingertip from his naval to the top of his lace-up breeches.

"Better hurry up, luv, before the tide comes in."

"Oh, for Pete's sake," I said, noticing that his breech laces were tied incredibly tight. I pulled and tugged and used my teeth, and finally I was able to undo the knot. I slid his breeches down to his boots, which came up to just above his knees, so really wasn't all that far, but far enough for our purposes. I must have piqued his curiosity even more because his bump was very prominent at this point. But it was still covered with a layer of embroidered pettipants.

"Um, I think my Gramma wears those," I said, pointing at the lacy women's undergarment.

"A bit of a memento," he replied, shrugging. "And I tend to lose me pants a lot."

I pushed the pettipants down and realized that Jack's compass arrow pointed at me just like mine had pointed at him!

"It appears my compass isn't broken anymore," said Jack, with a huge-ish grin.

And then we totally did the sex. With each other.

* * *

Millarja woke the next morning staring at two good nipples. That were not hers. She reached out to caress the nearest one when suddenly the body they were attached to rotated away. Instead, her hand landed on the thickest mass of black back hair she had seen since her class had gone to the zoo and they saw that herd of forty yaks.

"Wow, I haven't seen this much hair since our class went to the zoo and saw that herd of forty yaks!"

Jack grunted sleepily.

"This hair is incredibly strong and ropey, too. Do you use product?"

Jack growled sleepily.

"OMG! I could totally give you some awesome cornrows! Can I please?! I've always wanted to make cornrows out of someone's back hair!"

Jack snorted sleepily.

Millarja began to sort Jack's back hair into cornrows. "OMG! Did I tell you what Stacie said to me the other day?!"

Jack hissed sleepily.

"She totally walked right up to me and told me right to my face that she had shoes just like mine! Can u believe it?!"

Jack bleated.

"There's totally no way she could possibly have the same shoes as me! I mean, she's so…ew. She must've been mistaken."

Jack mooed.

"I know! My shoes are from _Steve Madden_! Stacie wouldn't know who Steve Madden was even if he walked up and kicked her behind with his own shoe!"

Jack brayed.

"I know! She's totally uninvited from my birthday party…These cornrows are going to look soooo sexxy on ur back!"

Jack clucked just as an egg rolled away.

* * *

"Guess what!" Jack grinned brightly.

"What?" Millarja asked.

"Chicken butt!" Jack replied. He grinned impudently. "Just kidding, me girl. I have some lovely news. They've made me captain of the football team."

"That's totally awesome!" Millarja squeaked, hugging him.

"Not sure what happened. I was just swaggering through this field and there were a bunch of soldiers in large, multi-colored, suits of armor. Their codpieces were enormous. Apparently, they saw something of a kindred spirit in meself and made me their captain. When I asked them where me ship was, they laughed and buggered off. I told them if they were to remain amongst me crew, they'd need to tell me where they keep the rum. A couple of them pointed me to the nearest pub, The Lazy Aye, and that's where I spent the rest of the morning."

"So what position are you going to play?" Millarja asked excitedly. _He better say quarterback. I totally want my boyfriend to be the captain quarterback of the football team. That'll show Mary Sue! Maybe I'll even be able to make the cheerleading squad this year!_

"Quarterback. Whatever that is. All's I know is it involves a lot of grunting and sweating and running about. And you wouldn't believe the dodgy way they hand me the ball…" Jack replied.

Millarja squealed in delight and hugged him again.

* * *

Weeks passed, and despite a rather unorthodox style of play, Jack became the bestest quarterback what ever played for the Los Clayhamton Pirates. He and Millarja's relationship continued to blossom into a pretty flower with red and pink and purple and pink flecks in it and it was really big and attracted birds and bees and small children. It was pretty. Millarja had finally made the cheerleading squad, but Mary Sue, the captain, always made her stay at the base of the pyramid. But everything was made much more better when Jack asked her to be his date for HOMECOMING!!!!!!!!!!111!!!!

Millarja had never been so excited before the parade was so perfect! Jack rode majestically in the crow's nest of the pink and purple (those were the school colors) lead boat/float. And the game was totally amazing. The Los Clayhamton Pirates had won 27 to 1! Jack had been so perfect on the field. He zigged and zagged and flailed all over the field with the ball and none of the other team's players could catch up with his Jesus-lizard run. That night at the dance Jack was teh hawtness in his tuxedo. Millarja just wanted to stay in his arms all night. Mary Sue was so jealous!

Later in the night, while Jack led the entire football team in dancing to _Apache_, by The Sugarhill Gang, like that really awesome scene in Fresh Prince, Millarja went over to the snack table to get them both some punch, as she was surreptitiously adding rum to Jack's glass, Mary Sue walked over.

"Hey,Millarja," she said snobbily, "Isn't that your boyfriend, Jack Sparrow, the mascot, flollopping around out there?"

"It's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, you cow!" Milarja told her off. Then she slapped Mary Sue. Then Mary Sue slapped her back. Then Jack walked over and slapped Mary Sue. Then Mary Sue's date walked over and slapped Jack. Then Milarja slapped Mary Sue's date for slapping Jack. Then Mary Sue slapped Milarja again for slapping her date. Then Jack slapped Mary Sue again for slapping Milarja. Then Mary Sue's date slapped Jack again for slapping Mary Sue…this went on for a good 20 minutes until everyone's hands hurt and they went back for some more punch.

Jack studied the bright red liquid in the punch bowl warily. He poked the bowl, sending wave patterns across the surface to the other side and back again. He then bent down and lapped up a little bit of the punch with his tongue, allowing his braided beard to dangle in the liquid. Jack's face contorted into that face that little kids make when you give them cough medicine – not the new kids' flavors but the old Robitussin kind, remember? Jack spit the little bit of liquid he had lapped up back into the punch bowl, then pulled a flask of rum out of the waistband of his tux and completely drained it in one go. He tucked the now empty flask back in his pants, turned to Mary Sue and said, "I have to say, that dress makes you look like a right salty wench." Jack grinned magnanimously.

Mary Sue slapped him. Mary Sue's date slapped him. Milarja, who strongly considered buying that dress just last week, slapped him. Things went downhill from there.

* * *

Milarja stomped out to the parking lot and wandered around hunting for her limo. Jack followed sheepishly at a distance. Both of his cheeks had bright red hand-shaped marks, and he was reeling more than usual.

"Wait, me darlin'," he said, stumbling over to her as she finally found the black limo.

"Jack!" she said, spinning around to face him so fast that the rush of air blew his hat (which didn't really go with the tux, but neither did the two belts, the pistol, or the baldric. The sash was kinda hot, though) off. "How could you?"

She sobbed. Her heart was broken, with a jagged little crack right down the middle. Jack picked up his hat and tried to straighten that slight bend in the front. He then tried to replace the Homecoming Queen tiara he stole from Milarja. Milarja swiped the tiara out of his hand and handed him the oversized Homecoming King crown she had had to wear for most of the night. Milarja opened the door of the limo, surprising the couple who were already kissing in the back seat. Jack shooed at them.

"Move over."

And sat down.

"Are you mad about the gunpowder?" he asked Milarja.

"No."

"Honestly, I 'ad no idea that the bunting could be so flammable."

"I don't care about the bunting."

"And there was no prior indication that there was an oil pipeline running under the gymnasium that would burst as soon as the mast from the float punctured the floor."

"I don't care about the oil pipeline."

"And I could never 'ave predicted that the entire school would sink into the swamp after the supports 'ad burned through."

"I don't care about the bloody swamp, either!"

"Then what's the problem, Your Highnessness?"

Milarja sniffled and wiped a residual fluff of extinguisher foam from her dress. "You made me look like a complete tool in front of Mary Sue and her date -- his name isn't important -- and the entire school! Now I'm going to be a total loser. No one will sit with me at lunch. No one will text me during study hall. No one will go shoe shopping with me. This was supposed to be the best night of my life and I worked so hard to earn enough money for this dress and y'know I haven' t eaten since 6 o'clock this morning and all that was was half of a cream cheese bagel and it wasn't even real cream cheese it was light cream cheese! OMG, you've ruined my life!"

"Will you please just shut it?!" he inquired, indicating the limo door.

"Oh, right," she said and got in.

* * *

Millarja had only just fallen asleep when she was awakened by loud banging. It wasn't Jack; it was the front door. Well, not the door itself, of course, but someone on the other side of it. Someone who wasn't Jack. At least, it had better not be Jack, Milarja thought as she answered it. _I'm still sooo mad at him_, she thought, _I don't even want to think about him._

"It's three in the morning," she shouted through the door. She tried to thrust open the door, but at about a quarter of the way open, the door slammed into something and rebounded with a shudder. Something on the other side of the door cursed emphatically. Milarja poked her head out and around the door and looked up at the tall man straightening up behind the door. And up. And then down.

Wow.

She looked back up again at his hypnotic eyes and slightly tousled brown hair and thought that they'd have to come up with a new word for 'sexy' to describe him, something that could convey how manly he was; his musky scent, those smoldering eyes (maybe some combination of the two… like 'skyder' or 'dermul' or, well, those didn't sound very good but something would come to her, she was sure) and it was at that moment that it occurred to her then that 'foxy' was a word usually used to describe a woman, but that that was a mistake because there was every reason in the world it should be applied to the beautiful man in he the grey suit before her.

"Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI," he groaned, rubbing his forehead. _OMG No Wai!_ Milarja thought.

"I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, Miss," he continued, "but this is of the utmost importance. There have been a number of temporal anomalies in this region lately and

I'm here to follow-up reports of an eighteenth century pirate playing football for a local high school."

"Oh, thank goodness, I'm so relieved! I thought you might be investigating the arson," Milarja sighed, relieved.

"Arson?" He looked confused. He was even sexier that way; how was that possible?!

"Oh! Ah, nothing, nothing, I mean, come in!" Milarja practically dragged him onto the couch by his necktie. He sat, awkwardly, looking uncomfortable. She decided to try some conversation: "So, you're interested in pirates?" she asked putting a hand comfortingly on his knee. Near the knee. Well, it would have been near the knee if his legs weren't so long, so it was his fault entirely. Milarja wondered if everything was long…

"Er, so, have you ever had an encounter with an eighteenth-century pirate?" Mulder asked.

_Pirate?_ _I don't even want to think about him. I'm still sooo mad at him._ But under the barrage of questions her mind was unwillingly dragged back to the previous fifteen minutes….

* * *

"…" sulked Jack in the limo. The last flames from the high school faded in the distance.

_I'm sooo _not_ talking to you until you apologize for looking at Mary Sue _that way, she telepathically sent the thought flying at Jack like a dagger from her brain.

"…"

"…" Milarja responded.

"…" Jack shot back with a look.

"…" replied the two other people making out in the back of the limo.

The limo finally pulled up in Milarja's driveway. Jack got out first and swaggered to the barn in the back without a word. Milarja followed, except she stumbled into the main house, instead. She took off her tiara, and lay on the couch, exhausted. Within minutes, Milarja had fallen asleep on the couch.

She was suddenly awakened by a loud banging. She got up and walked to the door. "It's three in the morning!" she shouted. She tried to thrust open the door, but at about a quarter of the way open, the door slammed into something and rebounded with a shudder. Something on the other side of the door cursed emphatically. Milarja poked her head out and around the door and looked up at the tall man straightening up behind the door.

"Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI," he groaned, rubbing his forehead.

* * *

"So he's still here?" The FBI agent's question jerked her out of her reverie.

"Well, yeah, he's passed out drunk in the barn. Wouldn't you rather stay- Hey! Where are you going?"

Mulder was already racing out to the barn, coat flapping like an angel's wings, smoking like a racehorse. Just as Mulder got to the front door of the barn, a wiry figure whizzed out of the shadows at the side. Mulder turned to give chase to the wiry figure, which was emitting a very strong, easy-to-follow odor, and was amazed at how quickly it moved.

Milarja, trailing behind Jack's Jesus-lizard run and Mulder's incredible hawtness, shouted, "Don't hurt him!" She wasn't entirely sure which one of the two she was talking about, though.

Just then, Jack juked and Mulder jinked. Mulder screamed (it wasn't a girlie scream, he's sure) while Jack continued lizarding at top speed. Soon, Jack was out of sight and Mulder was down on the ground.

"That's got to be the only pirate I've ever seen," he said in awe. Then the pain set in.

Milarja finally caught up to Mulder and kneeled down to see if he was ok.

"R U OK?" she asked.

"Mommy?"

He was curled up like a fetus (a human one, not an alien).

"I'm here, baby. I'm here," Millarrja cooed.

She sat down and cradled his head in her lap, stroking his hair and smushing his face between her breastesses. He babbled incoherently with his pouty fishlips. Millarrja noticed that his hands were clutching his nether regions. She's pretty sharp like that.

"Mmmph," he groaned. "My groin!"

"Poor thing."

Millarrja reached down and felt for blood on his pants. 'Cause it was dark. And she totally couldn't see a thing. So she had to feel his pants.

"You didn't cut anything, did you? Fall on something pointy?"

"I think I pulled it," he said through clenched teeth and ample cleavage.

Millarrja felt around some more.

"Yeah, it feels like it's been pulled really hard."

Mulder nodded, moving her bosom up and down.

"We need to get back to the house. It's getting dark, and there are ghosts and badgers in these woods."

"Ghosts? Really?" he asked, perking up. He looked at her with an excited puppy dog face, only it was his face, not a puppy dog's.

"Shhhh," she said, gazing into the darkness of night about where she thought his face would be.

He lapsed back into a semi-catatonic state.

She held him in her arms and stood up. He dropped to the ground. She tried again. He slipped out of her grip and fell into a creek that ran next to the barn and through the woods, which wasn't worth mentioning until now. He lay prostate prostrate in the water.

"Don't worry," she told him. "I know what to do. I saw this on a TV show once."

Millarrja moved over and grabbed his pant leg.

"We need to keep your leg elevated to reduce the swelling. So we'll just hold onto it while we pull you to the house."

Mulder wept.

She grabbed his foot and hoisted it up. Then she took off for the house, yanking Mulder along behind her. She did pretty well in the darkness, stopping only once when she ran into a tree. Mulder spoke gentle words of encouragement all the while.

"Ouch! Ow! You crazy. Ow…ow…ow…ow! Slow down! Sonofa--OW!"

Finally, they arrived at the front steps. Mulder waited for her to open the door. He shook his foot free and dragged himself into the living room. He flopped onto his back, spread-eagle and exhausted, and closed his eyes. He was soooo beautiful. And lost. And randy and confused! And wet!111FTW Millarrja's dream come true!! Not the one about finding a beautiful, lost, randy, and somewhat confused man in her barn. The other one.

_It's a good thing Mom's not home,_ she thought. _She'd totally make me take him to a doctor or a hospital or something. She's so unfair! I hate her._

Millarja saw that he was panting, so she helpfully unbuttoned his shirt.

"Do you need a cold compress for your groin? Bandage? Tourniquet?"

Mulder's eyelids popped open.

"Tourniquets fix everything on TV shows," she noted.

He squeaked.

Millarrja looked closely at the denim covering the affected area.

"I guess there isn't any bleeding," she said, sounding almost disappointed.

As he lay surrounded by pooling creek water, Mulder began to shiver.

"Oh, sweetie, let's get you out of those wet clothes."

Mulder nodded. She helped him sit up and eased his shirt off. Tiny goosebumps stood up on his shoulders and arms, spreading to his chest, except for his nipples, which were already kinda goosebumpy to start with. A holster belt was wrapped low around his waist. Millarrja reached for the butt. Mulder jumped.

"You don't need this…"

She removed his service weapon, savoring the heft of it in her hand. She set it on a table and turned back to Mulder. She reached for the belt again, checking to make sure she hadn't missed anything.

"You have a flashlight? Why didn't you tell me? Now where is the button…"

Mulder blinked and groped around behind himself.

"That's not my flashlight," he said, retrieving the item in question from the back of the belt. "This is."

"Oh," Millarrja replied. Then she paused and thought about it a bit more. "_Oooooooooh!_"

"Well, something's definitely turned on," she said, chortling.

She continued removing items from his person: handcuffs, cell phone, ID badge, sunglasses, wallet, his holster belt, his other belt, his boots, his socks, jeans, boxer shorts…

"Hey! Where are you going with my stuff?"

She tromped up the stairs and back down again like a herd of elephants, only with two feet.

"It'll be safe in my room," she said, giving him her bedroom eyes in the living room. "Aww. You're still shivering. Let me fix that."

She took off her shoes and lay on top of him, wrapping him up in her warmthyness.

"Mmnn," he grunted. "Knee. Groin."

"Oh, sorry," she said, and moved down a bit. "Does this feel better?"

"Yes."

"How about this?"

"Yeah."

"This?"

"Yessssss."

"And this?"

"Ooo."

"And, and…er…"

"Uuuunh."

"Mmmm."

"Gah!"

"Eeee! Eeee!"

"Ow! Arrrgh! Waaaaaah!

"Spooooon!!!!11111!!!!!"

"Ouch. Ouch. Ouchouch. Ohmyaching… UNH!"

And they totally did the sex.

* * *

Weeks passed, and despite numerous phone calls from some jerk named "Skinner" telling him he had a job to do and should return to D.C. and was he trying to get fired?, Mulder moved into the recently vacated barn. He and Millarrja's relationship continued to mushroom into a giant fungus that grew in dark, damp corners and spread spores everywhere. It was pretty. Oh, and no one had any idea where Jack went. At this point, no one really cared all that much.

"Hey babe! I got you a present! Come on!" Mulder bounded up to Millarrja like an excited puppy with a puppy-dog face.

"Wha…?" Millarrja responded, clearly put out by the fact that it was 2:30 in the morning and she had just fallen asleep on the couch with Mulder about an hour ago so where in the hell did he go to get a present in less than an hour and in the middle of the night?

"Come on!" Puppy!Mulder bounced.

"Who _are_ you?" It had obviously been way too many hours since Millarrja's last cup of coffee.

"Just…come on!" Puppy!Mulder was losing his appeal and quickly turning into one of those yippy dogs that barks at you every time you walk by its house, even though you're, like, 100 feet away and totally not in its yard and it's not even a threatening bark because it's coming from something smaller than your left toenail. Hamsters are more threatening than those things.

"Ok, ok. I'm coming." Millarrja giggled. She stumbled a bit as she stepped outside of the back door, Mulder virtually dragging her by the arm. "Man, it's dark out here."

"Yeah. Hey, that reminds me. Have you seen my flashlight?"

"Nope," Millarrja replied succinctly.

"Oh…"

Mulder and Millarrja continued walking toward the barn.

"How 'bout my ankle holster?" Mulder asked.

"Your gun is missing?" There was a hint of alarm in Millarrja's voice.

"No. Just the holster. I lost the gun on the last case I investigated."

"Oh. No, haven't seen that, either."

They were getting closer to the barn, where a single light shone through the cracked siding.

"Why would you keep wearing the holster if there's no gun in it?" Millarrja was slightly bewildered.

"What? Oh. Er. It makes me feel…you know…better."

"Better?"

"You know…more manly."

Millarrja snickered.

"Can we talk about something else?" Mulder's luscious, pouty lip jutted out like there was no tomorrow.

"Sure. Why is it taking us so long to get to the barn?"

"Oh, I think someone's just farting around, putting off writing the next scene."

"Oh."

Just then, the couple reached the front door of the barn. Just before he opened the door and ushered Millarrja inside with his hand on the small of her back, Mulder paused and asked, "You haven't borrowed my handcuffs, have you?"

"No." Millarrja replied dubiously.

"Bummer." Mulder ushered her inside.

"Ok, close your eyes," Mulder commanded as he lead her deeper into the barn. Millarrja could hear some rustling noises further back toward the stalls, but with her eyes closed, she couldn't see anything. Dur!

Mulder led her to what seemed like the furthest stall from the front door and stopped. "Ok, open your eyes!"

Millarrja opened her eyes to a wondrous sight. "zOMG a ponyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!1111!!!!11eleventy!!!" To Mulder's visual delight, Millarrja bounced up and down with excitement. All of her. "OMG! I can't believe it! Where did you get her? What's her name? Can she run fast? Can she jump fences? Can she climb trees and be my bestest friend evar?!?!?!?"

"Um, she's a he," Mulder said sheepishly.

"What?" Millarrja's face fell.

"She's a he," Mulder said.

"Oh. Well. That's ok! I'm sure we'll have fun together!" Millarrja smiled brightly after picking up her face and reinstalling it.

"Good. I'm glad. He didn't come with a name. Any ideas?"

"I will pet him and hug him and feed him and call him Groobert." Millarrja responded with a strange, faraway look in her eyes. Well, stranger and farawayer than usual.

"O…K…," Mulder replied.

* * *

Millarrja came home from the mall one day, excited to show Groobert the new shoes she bought to go with her purse, but when she headed out to the barn, something was wrong. She stopped in her tracks when she heard what sounded like a toaster oven dinging, then a chainsaw, then some ducks quacking, then a foghorn, then a hammer, a bell and a song. It was when she heard the wheels squeaking that Millarrja decided she should probably go investigate. She wasn't able to get within 30 feet of the barn, however, before the front doors burst open and Groobert jumped out. Sitting in the saddle was the most majestic man Millarrja had ever seen. He had high, regal cheekbones and a manly, strong jawline. His perfectly-shaped nose sat contentedly above the most exquisite mustache, and the dangly beard things were so…dangly. The man didn't even notice her as he turned Groobert and rode off into the woods, yelling "How do you stop this thing?!" Millarrja stood staring at the man's retreating form, focusing intently on a particular aspect of the man's retreating form, and realized _OMG It's Jack! _She had gotten so wrapped up in her new relationship with Mulder that she had completely forgotten about Jack. And he looked so magnificent riding her pony that Millarrja suddenly realized she was still in love with him. But she loved Mulder too! What was she supposed to do? How could she love two men at the same time? Where was Mulder anyway? What was she going to have for dinner tonight? Why did her mom have to be so mean all the time? Why do they call it a peanut if it is neither a pea nor a nut?

* * *

Mulder clenched his jaw and wondered at Millarga at breakfast, "I'm wondering what the matter is with you?"

"Groobert is gone; my life is an elephantine pile," Millarga snuffled, "and I don't have a date for the Prom!"

"I will go with you to the Prom I haven't ever been to one before," he offered. "And we will find you're pony. The FBI is good at finding things," he preened, "Its' what we do. Just one thing though, he coughed." "Since Groobert's missing, when we go to the prom, we'll have to borrow your mother's car because I can't find my keys."

"Can't you get another car from the FBI?" Millarga complained.

"No, the Assistant Director won't provide more than one per case. I hate him."

A kindred spirit, that's what he was. Millarga stared into his luculent grey eyes and her breath caught in her throat. It was suddenly so clear. How could she ever have been confused? This was the man for her. The one the only. If they had been in a movie, the soundtrack would have chosen that moment to swell majestically and explode with triumphant violins, like Dick Durock bursting out of a stagnant bayou to save his busty, intellectual girlfriend who realizes now that he's the one she loves, even if he is a plant monster.

"This will be the best Prom evar!" she enthused.

* * *

If you have ever been cool enough to get asked to the prom by a really hawt _older_ boy(!), then you already know how cool it is. The prom was being held in the ballroom of the Best Western instead of the gym, 'cause everyone knows holding the prom in a hotel is wai classy.

Millarga's gown was simply stunning. It was white ivory flute in English net over silk satin organza with rouched bodice and flower details. It had a heavily beaded band around the waist. It was strapless and had a gorgeous ice blue bow accent. The bow could be removed, or left on if the wearer desired but Millarga probably thought that the splash of color touched off the ensemble perfectly as well as bringing out the blue of Mulder's eyes.

Millarja and Mulder paused outside of the hotel before entering. Millarja straightened her bra strap and Mulders' tie. Just as they were going in someone shouted, "OMG! That dress is, like, totally antediluvian!" (You no doubt realize that the speaker meant that in the sense that the dress was incredibly old-fashioned and not in the literal sense that it was 'before the flood'.)

Millarga and Mulder whirled. It was Mary Sue. Millarga looked so furious she could hardly retort. But Mulder stepped up: "You're no judge of fashion, bi-atch! It looks like you got that dress from my partner!"

_Clip-clop clip-clop clip-clop._ The sound made all three combatants turn. It was Jack riding Groobert, and didn't he look magnificent in his tuxedo? Grooberts' mane and tail had been twisted into dreadlocks with beads and bits of flotsam tied into them. It was a good look on him, he totally pulled it off. Jack was somehow managing to swagger while still in the saddle, no doubt due to the half-full bottle of Malibu in his hand.

"Ahoy, luv! There ye are! Can't be goin' stag to a posh soiree like this, now can I?" he flopped his wrist at Millarga.

"That's _my_ pony and I'm _not_ your date, you stinking horse thief! Plus, I hate you!" explained Millarga clamping onto Mulder's arm and sticking out her chest to better illustrate her points.

"Is this Rastafarian bothering you, baby?" Mulder asked. "Better back off, pal; Special Agent!" He reached for his leather FBI badge holder in his tuxedo jacket pocket. "Uh… Where the hell is it?"

"Lose somethin', mate?" asked Jack innocently. "Anyways I wasn't talking to you- (this was directed at Millarga) I was talking to this loverly damsel right here." He gestured with the rum bottle at Mary Sue.

"Hi Jack," she purred. Then the little ho turned and stuck her tongue out at Millarga, the nerve of her!

"Captain Jack!" Jack corrected.

"The pirate!???!!!??11?!" exclaimed Mulder! "Hey, hey Dickhead! FBI! Your under arrest for violations of the space-time continuinueum!" He whipped out his gun from his shoulder holster and pointed it firmly at Jack.

In this instant several things happened all at once: Jack gasped, "Oh, bugger!" and, thinking quickly, he hurled the Malibu at Mulder's hand. In the very same instant Millarga and Mary Sue cried "Nooooooo!!!" in unison and threw themselves in front of Jack. As the shining bottle revolved through the air swapping end for end and splashing translucent droplets of alcohol that would never now fulfill their mixologist destinies, the 2 prom starlets collided in front of Mulder and rebounded, knocking Millarga into a mud puddle and Mary-Sue into the path of the oncoming rummy projectile. With a coconut-flavoured thunk, it bounced of her rhinestone tiara and back up into the air like a pop-fly while Mary Sue sprawled on the sidewalk in a heap of sateen, chiffon and tacky fake jewelry. The tumbling bottle came down again, this time landing squarely on Mulder's gun hand and the pistol when off with a deafening _bang!_ The bullet went wide and lodged in the gas tank of Millarga's mother's car, which exploded in a Hollywood-esque fireball, belching a mushroom cloud of smoke over the roof of the Best Western. The sudden eruption of flames behind Groobert terrified the purloined pony and he reared and bolted.

Mary Sue saw it coming but her legs tangled in the voluminous skirts and her hair snarled in the hedges lining the sidewalk. There was nothing she could do: it was as if all three fates had conspired to strike a blow against stuck-up cheerleaders everywhere and end her life. The pony crashed into Mary Sue like a tidal wave of foaming equine madness.

"There, there," Mulder held Millarga to him as she wept, "Your dress is all right. Come on we'll get you a club soda; a little club soda will get that out. Everything will be ok."

Confused and traumatized, Millarga could only sob back, "_Liar!_"

* * *

After the unfortunate pony accident, Mary Sue lay curled up a ball with her arms wrapped around her middle.

"Ow! My Golgi bodies!"

"They look fine to me, luv," replied Jack coolly, while dragging his feet on the ground in an attempt to stop Groobert from trampling the rest of the cheerleading squad. After much scrambling, the pony screeched to a halt in a huge cloud of dust. The cheerleaders gathered around, emitting estrogen-powered coos of concern and placing their hands on the shivering flanks.

"It's okay, me beauties. I'll recover," Jack announced, swatting the many hands from his flanks. "I only broke a nail."

* * *

Millarja sat there in the rain and the mud and the rain flubbing her lines while Mulder giggled at her helpfully.

"Oh well," she sighed. At least Mary Sue can't ruin my prom now. But I still hate her. ""

Millarja looked into Mulder's chocolate brown eyes, which were just starting to melt.

"Let's get out of here. And into there," she said, pointing at the hotel just visible through the choking, black, exploded-car smoke.

He nodded and hauled her out of the mudpuddle. Millarja looked down at the poo-colored stains on the back of her dress and stamped her little feet in anger. The pointy heel tips of her Kenneth Cole stilettos caught the bottom edge of her dress. A mighty ripping ensued. Everyone froze for a moment.

"Wow," Mulder said, ogling her posterior.

"OMG!" the cheerleaders squeed in unison. They abandoned the vogueing pirate, stampeded over Mary Sue's fallen form, and gathered around Millarja squealing and cheering and jealous-ing over her brand new, perfectly trimmed short skirt/skort.

"I LUV it!!" they said together, Borg-like, only with a much higher pitch. "It's wai hott! It's, it's so…! I want one just like it!!! But my mom would never let me wear a dress like that! I hate her!!!! Your mom would never let you wear that, either! I hate her, too!!!!! Oh, and Mary Sue: hate you sooo much! You're totally going to bottom of the pyramid, like, 4-evar!!"

Then they broke the exclamation key, so they had to quit talking for a while.

Millarja was very cool, pretending not to care about the attention. But deep down, she totally ate it up, like that really skinny guy who eats 50 hot dogs in 12 seconds, only Millarja didn't barf afterwards.

Mulder offered her his elbow. She took it and entered the hotel, stopping only once because he couldn't find his driver's license to prove that he was on the guest list. But she vouched for him, so it was OK.

Outside, Jack tied Groobert to a STOP sign next to the grass and a puddle of water.

"Sit," he commanded. The pony just starred at him.

"Well then, me beauties," he said grinning and gesticulating wildly at the crowd of restless, young, and perky cheerleaders, "what say we go into this 'ere soiree, what bestows the opportunity to find some, uh…libational fortitude, what allows everything to be much more better, what gives me the chance to show that pestilent, traitorous, cowhearted yeasty codpiece, what stole me lady, what a real man is, what in turn might just culminate in everyone having a li'l captain in 'em. What say you?"

"What?" they replied, rampant confusion cramping their powdered faces.

Jack sighed.

"Nevermind, loves. Just walk this way."

Jack took off for the entrance in his own particular…idiom. The cheerleaders watched him for a few steps and nearly hurt themselves trying to copy the drag-queen-fashion-show gait .

"Ow! My inner thigh!"

But finally, everyone was inside the actual prom building. And there was much rejoicing.

* * *

By the time Jack made his way into the prom ballroom (some nice young ladies in the lobby had been fascinated by his dangly bits and invited him up to their room for closer examination), the boring part of the evening was well under way. The DJ, who never wanted to be a DJ anyway, had cruelly decided to play Barbra Streisand's greatest hits, and upon entering the room, Jack immediately fell under the Wicked-Witch-cursed poppy-field influence. His legs felt heavy and he staggered more than usual. In a Cowardly Lion-esque show of strength and heroism, Jack stumbled head-first into the DJ's turntable, causing the sound system to switch over to FM radio, which was playing "Let's Get it Started" by The Black-Eyed Peas. The figurative bucket of water thrown onto Streisand's cackling form caused the entire ballroom full of teenagers, awakening from a deep sleep and finally seeing the Emerald City just minutes away, to weep with joy.

Shaking off the head trauma caused by both the turntable and the Wicked Witch of Manhattan, Jack took a moment to study his surroundings. The theme for the night appeared to be "Dutch Treat" since that's what it said on the wall. There was a big pile of dirt off to one side of the ballroom, which Jack assumed was supposed to be a dike. The walls not covered with giant signs that said "Dutch Treat" on them were instead covered with pink and purple tulips. Dominating one corner of the room was an oddly-shaped windmill. Jack quickly averted his gaze from the wood machine and muttered, "I can't look at that."

His perusal of the surroundings came to an end when he spotted a couple gazing into each other's eyes like there was no one else in the world. When he realized it was Mulder and Millarja, he threw up in his mouth a little and stomped over to the refreshments table.

On his way to the table, Jack spotted a small herd of un-spoken-for females and altered his plans a little. Jack swaggered over to them, whereupon a great deal of fawning commenced.

"Evenin', me lovelies!" Jack said brightly. This was met with a general nosing of his hands, which were dangling at his sides. "Would one of you care to accompany meself over to yon butt social?" he said, chucking his thumb in the direction of the dance floor. Several white tails were raised in response. "Ah, you lass…the one in the back with the doe eyes…"

* * *

Meanwhile, on the dance floor, Mulder and Millarja are lost in each other. Mulder begins to sing along to the music they're dancing to, and it's like he's totally singing the song to her!

"I  
Hurt myself today  
To see if I still feel  
I  
Focus on the pain  
The only thing that's real."

Millarja is staring starring into Mulder's hazel eyes, which are so filled with lurve that she can't resist singing along with him.

"What have I become?  
My sweetest friend  
Everyone I know  
Goes away  
In the end."

Mulder's blue eye is tearing up. His brown eye, which had always been more stoic and mysterious, remains unaffected. Millarja thinks it's the most romantic thing that's ever happened to anyone ever anywhere.

"You can have it all  
My empire of dirt  
I will let you down  
I will make you hurt…"

It is at this point Jack decides he's had enough of the intense sappiness, so he leaves his Artiodactyla co-dancer and asks Mulder if he may cut in. Mulder is still a gentleman so, despite his instinct that this is a BAD IDEA, he allows Jack to twirl Millarja away.

"Hullo, luv," Jack says almost bashfully.

Millarja, totally over her Jack miffage now that the entire cheerleading squad has also ripped their dresses just like hers, replies, "Hi Jack."

"I have something I want you to have, and in so having that something, I want you to remember that it was I who wanted you to have it, savvy?"

With her usual vacant expression, Millarja just smiles and nods. Jack removes his letterman jacket from over his tuxedo jacket and places it on Millarja's shoulders.

"Jack! You're giving me your letterman jacket!?!" Millarja exclaims.

"A token of my esteem, Bess."

Millarja squeals and jumps up and down and Snoopy dances, then hugs him. Jack hugs back. Then, not to be outdone by some lame FBI agent that must be color blind to wear those awful ties, begins to sing Millarja the romantic song playing on the sound system.

"I've got this feeling, so appealing  
For us to get together, and sing, sing!  
Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring - Banana phone!  
Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding - Danana phone!

It grows in bunches, I've got my hunches  
It's the best, beats the rest,  
cellular, modular, interactive-odular  
Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring - Banana phone!"

* * *

Meanwhile, at the refreshment table, Mulder is watching and is wai jealous. When Jack gives Millarja his letterman jacket, Mulder mumbles, "Oh, for Pete's sake!" He turns toward the table and cuts himself a giant slice of Dutch apple pie. He's on his 4th slice (eating with his hands, having tossed off the silverware somewhere around the 2nd slice) when Millarja comes over to the table with a big, stupid grin on her face.

"Whaffafliffwaffngoingonouffere?!?" Mulder chews and swallows. "What the flip was going on out there?!?" Mulder asks politely.

"What?" Millarja responds with her mostest clueless face.

"What were you doing with Captain Pettipants out there?" Mulder chucks his thumb toward the dance floor where Jack is currently playing the Michael Jackson role in a recreation of the zombie dance from Thriller. Mulder turns and watches for a second, admiring the choreography, then returns to staring at Millarja with an angry puppy dog expression. His bottom lip is, like, pouting like it has to stay home and do homework instead of going to the mall like Millarja's mother always makes her do. Mulder's bottom lip hates Millarja's mom.

Millarja suddenly becomes shy. "Well…he wanted to give me his jacket. And then he sang me the most romantic song. I've never had anyone sing me a song before…" Millarja trails off with a glassy look in her eyes.

"I just sang you a flippin' song about 10 seconds before he showed up!" Mulder yells, exasperated.

Once again with impeccable timing, Jack swaggers over to Millarja and puts an arm around her shoulders. "Havin' fun, luv?" he asks, trying to regulate his breathing after the breakdancing finale of Thriller.

"…" Mulder quickly looks back and forth between Jack and Millarja. A vein is popping out on his forehead.

"Don't have an apoplexy, mate. It's unbecoming," Jack advises, turning to nuzzle Millarja's ear with his nosebutt. She giggles.

"Back off!" Mulder says angrily, kicking a nearby trashcan into submission for emphasis. Now he has veins popping out everywhere.

"You, Sir, are grievously lacking in wooing skills. You wouldn't know how to woo, much less who to woo, if a woo came down from Woo Mountain and bit you on the arse!"

"Woo who?"

"Quit yer bawlin', will ya?" Jack says.

"Boys, boys," interrupts Millarja, flipping her hair, "don't forget to lavish me with attention."

Mulder ignores her, fuming. Jack sniffs. He frowns and sniffs some more. Soon, all three of them are sniffing and looking at each other with shifty eyes.

"There seems to be a curious effluvium emanating from…" Jack pauses. His stomach makes a gurgling noise like the water in a toilet.

"Your face is green and icky-looking Jack," says Millarja, expecting him to do something about it.

Mulder points out, "I'm not the only one who's fuming."

"Something's wrong with me bowls, mate," Jack says while breaking out in a cold sweat. "Ohmegod! It's the dread hot flushes!" He hurries to the bathroom, grumbling, "Must be that pansy rum AgtEeyore made me drink…"

* * *

30 minutes later, Jack emerges from the Little Pirates' Room to find that floozy Millarja pressed up against Mulder next to the refreshment table. Mulder looks up and sticks out his tongue. Then he goes back to sucking the last crumbs of prom cake from Millarja's teeth. Jack decides that a beverage is in order and approaches the table. But he needs something potent to screw up his courage, especially while listening to his bonnie lass slurping another man's lips off. He reaches beneath his baldric and tux vest to get his trusty bottle. But it's empty! "Bugger!" He throws the not-so-trusty bottle to the floor. The music and dancing and lip-slurping stop as the shattering glass diverts everyone's attention toward Jack. "Now, where is that secret rum?" he says, brow furrowed. He searches the other side of his vest, but it isn't there.

"Ah!" He holds up a finger, asking for everyone's patience. "I know!" Jack plunges his hand past his sash and belts and into the front of his pants. "Gotta be here somewhere…Ah!" He smiles and flings his hand up high. "Got it!"

The crowd murmurs. Jack looks up. He's holding a pair of handcuffs.

"Hey, those are mine!" Mulder says and rips the cuffs away from Jack, glaring at him. "That's a federal offense."

"Sorry, mate." Jack shrugs and goes back to digging around in his breeches. He bites his lip, concentrating. He pulls out a badge and an ankle holster and tosses them to Mulder. "Dunno how those got in there…" He raises one eyebrow and shakes his hips, resulting in a clanking sound. "Whoa. What's that?" He reaches behind himself and pulls out a long, black flashlight. The crowd "Oooh"s. Jack offers the flashlight to Mulder, holding it daintily with one thumb and forefinger.

"You can keep that," Mulder says with his face pinched. He turns to Millarja and slaps her fingers away from his face. "Stop it! That hurts!"

Jack sighs and yanks out the front of his waistband, peering into the black abyss. "Hmmm. Uh-oh. Forgot about that…" He reaches in with both hands. The crowd leans forward as one, breaths held in anticipation. They hear a hissing sound coming from Jack's crotch, followed by a growl. "Bloody 'ell!" Jack says. His eyes get really big as he wrestles with the demon in his pants.

"Raaaaaawrrrrr!" A yellow-striped cat bolts out of his breeches, spitting and clawing--and streaking for the door like lightning.

"Oy. Thought I wuz gonna become a eunich there for a second," Jack confides to Millarja. He wipes his brow and continues searching. "Ah, jingly…" He tosses Mulder his absconded car keys. "Almost got it. Something's in the way, 'ere." Jack grunts as he strains to lift something massive and fierce and huge-ish. Just as his pants are starting to rip, out comes a wooden helm wheel.

"A steering wheel?" Mulder asks.

Jack nods. "'Twas drivin' me nuts, mate."

He feels around some more and grasps something rock-hard and oblong. "Me rum!" He lifts the bottle out, clinking it against several nearby flutes of Sprite. "Drinks all 'round!"

There is a thunderous round of applause, except from Mulder. He still hates Jack.

"Now, Millarja, me love, me girl, me pet, me heart, me…" Jack ineffectually waves his hands in the air, "…thingy, what say you to makin' like trees and gettin' out of 'ere?"

"I don't think so, Jack - assent to abscond with my girl will not be forthcoming." Mulder retorted.

"Gee, matey, not sure if I get what yer sayin'. Lots of big words, there." Jack stepped forward menacingly.

"Don't fight over me!" Millarja squeaked breathlessly, her bosom heaving with the thrill. 2 huge studs fighting over _her_! Mary Sue would be so jealous. Oh, wait, she was dead or something! Crap!

Mulder shoved her to the side. "I always wondered, do you honestly think anyone believes your self-aggrandizing prevarications?!? I don't even think your obsequious coterie swallows all of it!" Mulder said, indicating the crowd assembling around them.

Jack smiled. "I hardly think my mendacity is germane to this conversation, mate. Your attempts to calumnate my good name will only prove your own hubris."

A look of shock slipped past Mulder's stoic façade briefly before being replaced by a wolfish grin. "Your acerbic wit is almost as entertaining as your archaic vestments…"

"Please do prattle on!" Jack interrupted. "Your soporific diatribe is almost as prosaic as your choice in ties. It amuses me, though, that rather than formulate a cogent argument against my statements, you choose to vilify me. How jejune!"

"I grow weary of your sordid chicanery, you intractable pirate. Keep your lubricious personage away from my girl!" Mulder retorted.

"Well, gents," Jack began, addressing his comments to the assembled crowd, who, despite having no clue what the two men were saying, began chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" and pumping their fists in the air. "I believe I need to disabuse my truculent friend of these injurious fallacies." Suddenly, with a feral grin, Jack lunged and grabbed Mulder's pant legs at the knees. Jack hauled the fabric downward with intense force, and Mulder let out a squeak. Jack straightened to admire his handiwork, and the entire assembled crowd started snickering. Mulder glanced down at the drawing of He Man with his sword raised (next to the tagline "I have the power!") adorning his loins and flushed with embarrassment.

Then Jack made a costly mistake. He turned around with his arms up and out, absorbing the crowd's mirth at the cost of Mulder's dignity. Mulder lurched forward, grabbed the back waistband of Jack's own boxers and yanked upward as hard as he could. Jack yelped as he left his feet. When Mulder finally let go, several inches of underwear fabric were peeking out above the waistband of Jack's pants. Interestingly, Jack's boxers were also adorned, except his had a large picture of a label which read, "Property of Millarja, If Lost Or Stolen, Please Return Immediately."

By this time the assembled crowd was on the floor, laughing their lungs out, which would explain how they missed the intense flash of light that blinded Millarja, Mulder and Jack. When their sight returned, they saw the most beautiful girl any of them had seen in the past five minutes.

"Hello, Millarja! I'm your long-lost twin sister, Princess Jarjindy!" the girl said.

Millarja squealed with delight and hopped up and down, clapping her hands. Jack and Mulder turned to each other in shock. "What the flip is going on?" Mulder asked incredulously.

Jack shrugged. "My milkshake brings all the girls to the yard, mate."

"Right, that's it!" he exclaimed and lunged at him, throwing him into a table. Tulips from the table arrangement flew everywhere and the crowd cheered. Rallying, he scrambled up and wrenched a blade off of the offending windmill before his opponent could cover up his own embareassing underwear.

"I'm gonna kick your butt!" he roared, fixing his pants. He feinted forward and jinked aside as he swung the wooden sail at him samurai-sword style. Ducking and rolling he came up by the windmill and wrestled off a second blade from the windmill. He glanced over to see if the girls were impressed.

Millarja and Jarjindy had wandered away from the dueling suitors and were eating gouda biscuits and drinking punch. Jarjindy poured another measure of rum into the punch and resumed her story.

"… and I guess Mom forgot about me or something. I hate her. So I've been living in Fairyland ever since. It was really cool and everything, being a princess, but I'm just really, really ready to get…married. Anyway, my magical pet unicorn ran away and that gave me an excuse to leave and travel around."

"That is totally awesome!!" she squealed. "I've always dreamed of having a long lost twin sister, uh, among other things! So, do you have a boyfriend?!"

"No, in Fairyland it's all elves. And let me tell you, elves just don't do it for me; they're too effeminate. I don't know why so many girls get so sappy over them. Do you know any hawt boys?"

She glanced around at where the two combatants were having at each other, their blades flashing in the disco ball's twirling lights. They lunged and grappled like two Magic: The Gathering players warring over whether Kirk or Picard was more awesome. It was a brutal, yet sexy though a somewhat ineffectual exhibition.

"I guess you can have one of mine."

Mulder saw the two girls looking at them. Jack turned to look where he was looking.

"'Ere Mate, I saw her first. Get yer own wenches!"

Mulder had had enough of this and he kicked Jack in the hands contemptuously as he turned to the two girls.

"Ow, my hands!"

Ignoring his whining, he turned to the two girls. "Who're you?"

"I'm your date!"

"No, not you!"

"I'm her twin sister!!" Jarjindy chirruped.

Jack scurried up, wrists flopping more than usual, a line of chaperones in his wake. He bee-lined straight for Jarjindy. "'Ello, Luv," he woozed. "Might I make the suggestion that we retire from this place in favor of…" He trailed off, squinting at Millarja, then Jarjindy, then Millarja, then Jarjindy, then his rum bottle, then Millarja, then Jarjindy, then the rum. Lowering the rum to the floor with his thumb and forefinger and then he covered one eye, stood on one leg and looked at Millarja and Jarjindy alternately some more. "Oh, good. I thought there were four of you for a minute there."

* * *

A few moments later the four stormed out of the Best Western right after they were thrown out and stood looking at the smoldering remains of Millarja's mom's car. Except for Jack who was looking at the princess, Jarjindy.

"Well, now what? You to totally ruined my prom!!" Millarja blamed the too men. "How are we gonna get home? I can't believe my mom bought a car that blows up when a bullet hits the gas tank! That is such crap! I hate her!1"

"Don't shout at me, Luv, if you want me to give you a ride on my noble steed."

"_Your noble steed_?! My _boyfriend_ gave me that pony!"

"Now, luv, what would ye be wanting with a dungbie like that. Man hasn't even got a proper-sized pistol." He looked down his nose at Mulder (no small feat).

Mulder clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times. "Now you listen here, you scummy pirate!! You stole that pony from my girl, and we want it back!"

"I did not!"

"You did!"

"Well if you think I did then you're just one of those people who thinks I did."

"That pony wass bought with FBI funds, that makes Groobert government property. That's a federal offense and I'm gonna-"

"Everything you say is boring!" Jack shouted. "I don't think I'm going to let you on my horse, here."

"Mister Magic??!!!" Jarjindy squealed! She splashed through the puddle and ran up to Groobert. A warm golden light enveloped the group and when it drained away. The equine formerly known as Groobert, but who apparently was Mister Magic had a beautiful horn spiraling from the center of his forhead.

"My unicorn," said Jarjindy, smugly.

Jack was a pirate who could see which way the wind was blowing. He swaggered up to Jarjindy. "You know, me lovely, if you were to do me the favor of favoring me with a ride now, it would be my greatest pleasure to repay you with an equally…lengthy ride later. I happen to be the captain of a very fierce, proud, and, if I don't say so meself, sizeable vessel." Jack grinned [adverbly.

"Hey you can't leave your sister!"

"Or your sister's date!"

So the quartet left for home on Groobert Mister Magic. Mister Magic turned his head and glared at Millarja as if to say he hated Millarja's mom, too.

_The next morning_

Millarja ran down the stairs three at a time and scrabbled around on the floor for her cell phones. "Where did I drop those darn things? Picking them off and shaking off the dust she blithely began squealing into them again. "OMG, I have the most amazing news," she squealed. Mulder and I are _totally_ getting _married_! And I have a twin sister and she's going to marry Jack!!!111!!!!" Millarja settled in. "You are sooo going to be my bridesmaid," she said into one phone. "You too, she said into the other."

* * *

**Epilogue**

_And so it came to pass that Millarja reunited with her long-lost princess sister, Jarjindy, and the next week was married to the handsome but ferocious warrior, Mulder in the magical city of Las Vegas. Millarja's mother was not invited to the festivities at the request of the entire town, because they all hated her so much. But they did tell her of the birth of their daughter, Mullarja, so that when they went to clubs, they had a baby-sitter._

_The indomitable Captain Jack Sparrow also fell helplessly in love with the lovely and well-endowried princess and they too were married. In time they too were blessed with a beautiful child which they named _Jarjackie. _Time passed as time is wont to do and before long the world thrilled to the adventures of the cousins Mullarja and Jarjackie. But this is an overlong story for another time._


End file.
